


Clouded Horizon

by FireEye



Category: Final Fantasy V
Genre: F/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piracy: It's a living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouded Horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Person](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Person/gifts).



> Prompt: Faris/Bartz
> 
> I would really like something with genderqueer Faris where it's pretty much a non-issue to Bartz. The two of them pirating it up post-game, sailing the seas, buckling swashes, and all that good stuff. I... actually kind of like the overdone pirate accents in the Playstation port (I know, it's terrible of me to admit it *g*) so some piratey patter would not go amiss.

How the deck could get so befouled with grime was one of life’s great mysteries.  The boat was afloat, and it rained often enough, but there was still more than enough to soil his rags black.  How anyone expected him to clean it, stem to stern, with naught but a pile of washcloths torn from old clothes and a bucket of dingy water, was less of a mystery and more Old Nibs pulling rank.

Butz took it in stride.  He was no stranger to manual labor; often, on the road, it meant a warm meal and a soft bed for the night.  Furthermore, it was a beautiful day – blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and warm sunshine on his shoulders, accentuated by a solemn ocean breeze.

The rustle of leather behind him marked Faris’ arrival.  Sitting up straight for a stretch, Butz glanced over his shoulder to find her seating herself on the stack of crates rigged haphazardly to the bulwark, leaning back in that confident, assertive, _I’m King of the Pirates_ manner that had waned somewhat during the latter half of their journey.  She had long since bound herself up as a man, and even the loose summer tunic beneath her heavy jacket did nothing to give the game away.  The loose, disheveled ponytail and kohl was a far cry from the hair ribbons and rouge that Krile and Reina had once pestered her with.  If one knew how to look, the curve of her cheek betrayed the femininity she was born with, but she now moved with the same contented, masculine ease as when they had first met, nothing if not comfortable.

While he watched, Faris pulled her pipe from one of the inner pockets of her jacket and dashed the ashes onto the deck.  Butz smiled in spite of himself, turning back to his task.  No wonder the deck got so damn filthy.  

“Enjoying the weather, O Captain?”

“Quite.”

“You could always help me out down here.”  Butz suggested, albeit cheekily.  “Not that I expect the high and mighty Pirate Lord to get down on his knees and dirty, but some partial treatment would be nice once in a while.”

“Mayhap I like wha’ I shee,” Faris replied, words curled around the flute of the pipe.  Butz snickered at that.

For a while, he worked in silence, inching around the deck like a woodworm.  The fragrance of pipesmoke came and went with the breeze.  At length, Faris stood and sighed – the deep, contented sigh of _being home_ – pacing a bit restlessly.

Abruptly, she stopped and murmured, low and thoughtful.  “Dark clouds on the horizon.”

“Dark clouds?”  Butz scoffed; he threw his arms out to emphasize, loudly, “It’s a bright and beautiful day.”

“Ain’ talkin’ abou’ th’ weather, lad.”  Shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare, the captain stood staring out over the water for what seemed like an age.  Abandoning his solemn duty as _lowest pirate on the boat_ , Butz stood, brushing off his knees, and came to stand beside her.  In the distance, over the waves, a ship bobbed, black-sailed.

“Aw, hell,” Faris groused, dropping her hands to her sides.  “Red Tom.”

“Who?”

“Most dangerous man on th’ sea.”  Faris whistled sharply, hollering for Jonathon across the deck and waving an arm in the general direction of the other ship.  She didn’t stand around to watch as the crewman scampered into position, instead making a beeline for belowdecks.

“I think I misheard that,” Butz stated, following at her heels.  “I thought you were the most dangerous man on the sea.”

“Jus’ ‘cause I be notorious doesn’ make me th’ worst the sea has t’offer.”  Faris related, her tone matter-of-fact, “Tom is half again wha’ I e’er were.  Sadistic son of a whore, tha’ one.  Enjoys torturin’ ‘is prisoners ‘til they’re dead, and he’ll keep ‘em alive just so he can.”  At that, she scowled.  “Had ‘im over for tea once; his table manners ain’ much better.”

In her cabin, Faris dug through her trunk, tossing her light armor over the bedpost and, more reverently, placing the Masamune at the foot of the bed.

“We can take him, right?” Butz asked, eyed fixed on the cursed blade.  “Faris.  We took on an evil tree from another world.  Tell me we can take this guy.”

“Mayhap.”  Faris shrugged out of her jacket, neither committal nor particularly phased.  “See how th’ wind blows.  Get yer kit on.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, personally, I love Faris' androgynous nature. And I wasn't sure whether to stop it there or continue and DHGSDGAF DEADLINE! I'm so sorry! D:


End file.
